Excerpt From Rocket League: ALL THAT MATTERS
by AustanBrown
Summary: Some Fan-Fiction I'm working on.


**ALL THAT MATTERS**

* * *

 **A ROCKET LEAGUE STORY**

EXCERPT WRITTEN BY AUSTAN BROWN

I'm betting everything on this Tournament. My money. My child. If I ever want to see her again, I have to win. I just hope my good old Breakout can handle it, he needs a lot of repairs.

The name's Benjamin, Benjamin Jupiter. I've got a big last name with a big dream in mind, but at the moment I'm the smallest of the small and down on my luck. After losing my job during the recession, I thought I'd never work on another car again. No one was hiring, and my bank account was running out fast.

My wife, Rebecca, cheated on me during the whole thing. Said the other guy can provide and that I don't even bother. What an unappreciative bitch. If I don't get this money, I can't prove to the judge that I can provide for my daughter, and she'll get full custody mark my words.

I can't let the bitch win. She wronged me, used me. And the last thing she's going to do is take my child from me.

I've been training with my friend Donnie, who has a 2010 Gizmo. He says he originally bought it new to "Save the Environment", but I just know he's a cheap ass who wants to save on gas milage hates fixing up his cars. Can't say I blame him, that gig screwed me big time.

We train in his backyard because he was banned from Exhibition Training and the Tournament years ago. He says he didn't touch that cheerleader Stacey, but every time he says that all I hear is Bill Clinton stating "I did not have sex with that woman."

Sure, Donnie is a scumbag low-life and I'd prefer to train and live with someone better, but when you're out of work and your no good cheating wife has turned everyone against you, options become scarce. It was either Donnie or Mark, and you don't want to know about Mark.

Besides, Donnie has money to last him awhile from that settlement he got at his last job. As soon as he heard they laid me off, he got worried because he worked in a similar industry. So the crazy bastard smashed his own head in with a wrench in the middle of his shift, and said it fell from a pillar at the top of the garage. No one was around to prove that's not what happened, and he hired the best lawyer in the State to help him out. $450,000 later, he paid his lawyer, invested in the stock market, and sat back as his profit grew. Never has to work another day in his life, but he doesn't let people know that.

All of a sudden, I hear my phone go off. The title of "The Bitch" pops up on my screen. I, reluctantly, answer. The next five minutes consists of our voices rising until we can barely use our vocal chords. I end the conversation with, "Well, maybe you should've thought of that before sleeping with another man you fucking whore!" and hang up on her abruptly.

I walk outside for a smoke to calm my nerves. As a begin to light up, some words of wisdom hit my eardrums. "You should quit, you know." Says Breakout, who sits parked in the drive-way. "You won't be of much use to your daughter, even if you win the tournament, if you're dead." I smile, take a puff, then respond: "Blow me."

"I'd much rather not. Hey, if you stopped smoking, you could probably afford to fix me up."

"If you'd stop being such an old geezer maybe your wouldn't be broken."

"You should get Donnie to fix me up, he has the means."

"You know I don't ask for favors. I work for my money, even if it's from Donnie."

"I don't think sleeping on his couch counts as work."

"I clean the house for him, run errands!"

"Oh, you're a maid now then? Oh, I apologize, that's much better."

"I should junk you and get Donnie to give me a pay-ahead, maybe I'll buy a newer Dominus or or even a Takumi."

Breakout responds, but to the tune of Mister Roger's Neighborhood.

"Please? Please, won't you please? Please won't you take, me out of this shithole."

"Beautiful, just beautiful. We should drop out of the Tournament and just sign you up for The Voice. You might get disqualified when they see that you're a car, but we should give it a go anyways."

My phone goes off with a text tone. I look down to see a message from Breakout with a Middle Finger Emoji. "How the hell did you do that?" I ask. "Donathan will do a lot for you if you ask." he replies.

"Donathan? Who the fuck is Donathan?"

"That's Donnie's real first name."

"What the hell? Donathan? It's not Donald?"

"Shows how much you know."

"Who the hell names their kid Donathan?"

"Smart Trailer-Trash apparently."

"Okay, you know what? Fine, if it makes you stop bitching, I'll ask Donnie about paying for your repairs, alright?"

"It's about time."


End file.
